Demons Have No Place With Angels
by Devoglio S
Summary: "'You did a better job killing John Watson than I could have ever dreamed to.'" Sherlock escapes the network of Moriarty, but can he escape what he has let himself become? Inspired by fanart by Rachel Greene. Wing!lock, but not quite. T because I'm paranoid. No pairings. Johnlock friendship. I stink at summaries. So, yeah.


Hullo, fellow Sherlockians. So, I have no idea about this one. I was on Pinterest when I saw some beautiful fanart done by Rachel Greene, and it had a ghost-like outline of Moriarty ripping Sherlock's angel wings off. It was, needless to say, angsty. However, I got inspired for the first time in months, and this just sort of, um... happened. This is totally unbetad, so all mistakes are mine. So, anywho, here's the story.

**Disclaimer: **all that I own of Sherlock is Series 1-3 on DVD and a deerstalker. Characters belong to Moftiss and BBC in general. Inspiration art by Rachel Greene.

**Demons Have No Place With Angels**

SHERLOCK is just in John's line of sight. It's been two long years since he's seen his best friend, and he had done much that he regrets in that time. Shaking his head to clear these unsavory thoughts, Sherlock continues walking towards his friend and decides it would be quicker to run. Just as he begins to quicken his pace, however, he pauses as he feels something on his ankles.

He turns about to see the ground split and hundreds of demon-like members of Moriarty's network swarming to bring him down to their world. He knows each and every face, but the last time he saw any of them was when he took it upon himself to take the life out of their eyes. Those same eyes were now full of anguish and hate as they started pulling him back and away from John, and on looking at him he could now see the outline of heavenly, feathery wings coming out of his back. Looking at his own back, he saw a similar outline, but an opaque grey instead of John's creamy white. The demons all around him had wings of a deep and dark scarlet.

As they continued to pull him back, Sherlock struggled to find purchase on the now quaking ground. Just as he began to pull himself forward, he heard a voice behind him that made his blood run cold.

"Now, now, Sherlock. That's not very fun, is it?"

Sherlock looked in horror as Moriarty came into view, with wings the colour of onyx. Sherlock found that he could say nothing, but instead began to claw at the ground that had somehow risen to chest-level. Moriarty looked down at him with brief amusement.

"Sherly, dear, what could you possibly be doing? You act like you can be with him. How sweet. Silly boy, after what you did to my network, how could you think you'd be able to stay on the side of the angels? You're just like me now. Just. Like. Me. Isn't that nice? We're twinsies now, see?" He gestured to his and Sherlock's matching black wings.

"You can't go where John is now. He's going up to heaven, but you have to come back down with us, now. I know you've some knowledge of the Bible demons don't get to go to heaven. Just give up, Sherly-dear. You can't follow him now."

Sherlock looked up at the madman with tears beginning to flow down his face. His voice trembled with sorrow and desperation when he spoke.

"No, Moriarty. You're wrong. I am still on the side of the angels. I did all of this to stop you from hurting the people I care about. There is nothing wrong in that. I-I just did it to save him…"

Moriarty looked down at his rival, smug and with a bit of contempt.

"My goodness, Sherly. You really have become ooordinary. Have you seen John lately? Believe me, it would have been a favor to let me kill him. It's so much worse this way. Can't you see, Sherlock? You're killing him now more painfully than I could. You broke his heart and he can't love anymore. And without love, heh, well, his ordinary little self can't quite handle that. I guess I should thank you, actually. You did a better job killing John Watson than I could have ever dreamed to." With this final taunt, Moriarty signaled for his swarm of demons to let go.

Sherlock quickly rose and began trying to escape the hands that still seemed to seek him out, to drag him down to the land of suffering from whence they came. Moriarty watched with no small amount of amusement as the once-brilliant detective stumblingly ran away as tears blurred his vision and overwhelming emotions hindered his movement. He heard Moriarty laughing at his attempt to escape them, to escape himself, and only ran faster, trying to somehow outrun the pair of solid, ink-black wings that he couldn't help but see in his peripheral vision.

Finally, after what seemed like lifetimes of running, he saw John walking down the sidewalk. Relieved, he reached his hand out to touch John's shoulder, but saw his hand pass through as if John were not even there. He yelled to John, but couldn't be heard. He desperately tried everything he could to be seen, but nothing worked. He eventually gave up and simply watched John walk off into the crowd, into the sea of white wings. Watching John's retreating form, he now understood why Moriarty let him go. This was to be his eternal punishment.

Knowing that he, after becoming a demon, could never reach the angel of John Watson.

* * *

SHERLOCK bolted awake, covered in sweat and lying in an uncomfortable motel bed. This time he was somewhere north of Dublin. He had already deleted the city- his work here was done. In fact, he was almost done with his entire mission. The man he had taken care of that evening- Sebastian Moran- was the most important of the last few remaining pieces of the network. It has been almost two years since he's been home, since he's seen John…

Sherlock shook his head at the sentiment that had grown in him while he was dissembling Moriarty's network. He would have never thought that he could ever feel for anyone, but he realized he could hardly function without John. He was truly lost without his blogger. He felt a tremendous surge of guilt within himself with every life he took, knowing that John would find it more than "not good".

And in the past few months, he experienced the same nightmare with every member done away with. He had told Moriarty he was on the side of the angels, but he was no longer sure. And that was almost as terrifying as the nightmares.

He had never claimed to actually be an angel himself, but he never thought he could be like Moriarty- that he could be a demon. He knew that these labels were inaccurate and illogical, but he had actually grown more sentimental in the last two years, with only memories of his friends to prevent a spiral into total madness and psychopathy. He now had only one more key member to go, and then the other, lesser members of the network would dissipate. And then, finally, he would go home. Hopefully, once he saw John again and knew for certain that his nightmares were just the fears of his subconscious manifested in thoughts during sleep, they would finally stop.

Yes, he was almost sure they would stop after he saw John again.

* * *

TWO months later, on the night that he confronted John in the restaurant, he realized just how wrong he was. That night he had the worst nightmare of all- the demonic network of Moriarty succeeded in pulling him down to their world. He had actually, for a moment, accepted that he was one of them. Not only did he accept it, he relished being with people like him. With his fellow demons.

And that thought horrified him so much that he actually awakened with a scream.


End file.
